


Military Mind Palace (Military Kink)

by JayWinchester30



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Military, Military Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWinchester30/pseuds/JayWinchester30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've taken my tags, Sherlock, that deserves... Ten-" Sherlock whimpered at the thought of the punishment, the word wasn't even mentioned but God was he anticipating it. "Count each of them Sherlock, or I'll start again. Don't move, or I'll start again. Understand?"</p>
<p>"Yes Captain Watson." Sherlock said through timid lips. He could feel John lining up and just before the impact-</p>
<p>*BANG BANG BANG* against the bathroom door. "Everything alright in there? I<br/>Heard my name." John stated through the door...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Military Mind Palace (Military Kink)

**Author's Note:**

> Other chapter to come soon so don't forget to bookmark, and if you enjoyed my work, please feel free to leave kudos.XX Also, if you're also a spn fan i've got some other fics on my account. I take requests as well so leave them in the comments or message me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jaywinchester30-ao3 
> 
> this will also be added at the end so you don't have to scroll back up. xx

John stood at the door, shoulders squared and arms rigid in an upright and angled stance resembling a salute. Only then did Sherlock realise John was back from... Wherever he went...

As Sherlock placed his test tube back on the kitchen table, he rounded the corner ever-so-slightly to be able to fully view John and the person he was conversing with. Just as he did, he saw John's stiff body soften into a joking engage with a woman with whom he then proceeded to hug. Both John and the woman were wearing full camouflage uniform, her in greens and him in his dusty-desert-ish browns with a dirty green undershirt shining through his unzipped trouser-matching jacket.

Sherlocks hands loosened around thin air, only then thankful he had put the chemicals back on the kitchen table. "J-John?" Sherlock muttered in a quietened voice, the words echoing through slightly quivering lips.

Just as John closed the door he breathed a heavy sigh of relief, falling back against its frame and running his hands up his face and through his hair. John wiped at his eyes before taking off his jacket and slinging it restlessly over his shoulder.

As he began to walk towards the kitchen he finally noticed Sherlock, stiff as a statue, almost unresponsive to any advances he was making in connecting a conversation. As John's hand waved back and forth in front of Sherlock's face he noticed and mentally noted the extreme dilation I his pupils. "Fucksakes Sherlock I was gone for three bloody hours!" John reprimanded as he shoved Sherlock into a seat.

As he did Sherlock took his sweet time running his eyes over John's body, every inch of which was accentuated by his swift uniform, tight fitting or not. But the dirty green undershirt was what caught sherlocks eye. It's crisp fit to John's torso pulled at a nerve Sherlock didn't even realise he had, his heartbeat increasing in speed and viscosity in the liquid pumping through it, making the oxygen to his brain deprive enough for his eyes to flutter shut.

As he tried to blink them open he could see John moving around besides him, his short shirt lifting from under his belt and completely detaching from its formal position as John reached above Sherlock for the usual hiding place of his drugs. Sherlock never hid them from John but never left them out for polite company. As John did however, Sherlock's eyes caught a small glimpse of a dirty blonde happy trail leading past the now falling belt and to somewhere Sherlock could only imagi-- 'what am I even thinking?' Sherlock thought to himself, closing his eyes once more before letting himself once again see John in the uniform that made every muscle in his body tense with a burning desire t-- 'no'

"What did you take? Morphine? Cocaine?" Sherlock stared at him with a blank expression before opening his mouth to speak, only to pause slightly and continue with a quieter tone than he had originally intended to use.

"What are you wearing," Sherlock swallowed hard, the lump at the back of his throat pushing back into the state of annoyance, he hummed at a lost for words. "Uh...John?" He gulped again, harder this time.

"What?.. What?" John asked shaking his head at the diversion from the serious question he thought would have a hierarchy in the conversation. "Um, my browns?" John asked as if to check that's what Sherlock was referencing. Sherlock nodded slowly in response, a bitter taste forming on his tongue resembling an urge to either flee or do something he knew he wouldn't be able to control.

"It was "heroes night" at an old pub my army friends and I used to go to when waiting for deployment. An ex-RAF Sargent owns the bar and has a "blues-greens-browns" night for all RAF, Army and Military bods in the aria. If you don't come in full uniform you have be to pay for the beer. I met up with Jay from my old school, she talked me into cadets and I went Millitary while she went RAF, she isn't an office bod though so she has greens camo not formal blues... Wait why am I explaining this to you, what drugs did you take?" John asked as he finished his relatively concise explanation of his evenings events to Sherlock.

"Um.. None Ca-..." Sherlock gulped quickly before continuing "John" Sherlock tried to state through gritted teeth before cursing himself at the almost-use of John's title. Captain John Watson. Even the thought of the title made sherlocks knees weak and gave him the urge, the need, to bite back a moan.

As fast as John could recognise his slip up Sherlock was up and out of the kitchen and headed to his room in almost no time at all. This left John confused and alone in the kitchen before tipsily heading upstairs to his room.

Sherlock sat against his door with his fingers intertwined in his overhanging curls at the front, a heavy breath escaping his lips in a constant and fast pace resembling a pant, but needier.

Sherlock never gets like this, not as bad anyway. He knows what and why but doesn't know, for one of the only things in his life like this, how to control himself.

He can handle the dog tags, kind've... Not really. But he can handle the undershirt used when John goes to the gym, or the trousers when he has nothing else to wear but then he doesn't have to see him for more than half a second because he gets changed upstairs in his bedroom.

Sherlock pulled himself up from the floor and sat on his bed, closing his eyes and entering his mind palace, except without much control of himself or where he was going.

He emerged in a room slightly disconnected from his main chambers but there nevertheless. It was an old room he had only visited once before and in his mind palace twice.

The room had bright lights, turned on currently and a lot brighter than he could remember... The lights in here were never on when he walked past outside.

As if trying to decide what the room was wasn't hard enough, all of the filing cabinets in here were locked... Except for one?

Sherlock walked slowly towards the filing cabinet but as soon as his hand reached the drawer he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him from his mind palace and back into the extremely comparatively dim reality.

John stood, looming over him with a worried expression on his face and a cup of water in his hands. "Sherl you've been out for hours, where were you? Don't tell me this isn't drugs..." He said with his face growing tired and sympathetic as he pulled up a chair.

That's when Sherlock saw it, the bloody dog tags. Even in his pjs, why wouldn't he take them off? Sherlock was heading back down the rout of overdrive and began to shake which caught John's attention. John placed his fingers against sherlocks neck and began taking his pulse, elevated of corse.

But this time, Sherlock made the mistake of trying to say something, not even knowing what himself, but not being able to. John leaned forward towards him in an attempts to hear him, their faces extremely close and the tags... Sherlock had to resist from touching them but he couldn't.

He slowly moved his hands up to them, dangling elegantly from John's neck, and became less lucid as he did. The moment he came into contact with them, and as John moved forward with lips almost colliding, he lost all signs of consciousness.

This time back in the palace the room was blinding, Sherlock only being able to see the outline of the filing cabinets and as fast as he could he headed towards them.

As he got closer however, he began seeing the outline change shape and as he slowed down it was clear as day what the shape was.

John stood there in front of him, full uniform with everything including the gun. Just as imaginary John saw him, he began smirking and barking orders like "on your knees" and "don't move" and as soon as he knew it the room became blindingly bright.

In an instance he was dragged back to his room, his real bedroom, and all he could see was a bright light shining in in his eyes from a torch. He pushed the hand from his face softly and pulled himself up in bed, only to see John again, but without his tags on.

Sherlock sighed and got up to go to the bathroom to wash his face when he noticed the metal chain hanging from his neck. "Fuck" he whispered to himself before walking into the bathroom.

"You alright?" Sounded John from the door, a worried tone in his voice.

"Yeah I'm going to run a hot bath and sweat the rest out, see you in a bit." Sherlock said with tired hands running over his face as he undressed and began running the bath. He emerged from the bathroom again and looked at John. "Why am I wearing your tags?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow from halfway in the bathroom.

"I don't know, you took them off of me." John replied with a small chuckle before walking through to the living room.

"They'll be in here when I'm done." Sherlock said, finally closing and locking the bathroom door. 

Meanwhile, John was sat on his chair in the living room, holding his head in his hands. He cursed himself for leaving Sherlock alone without the skull ,due to it being hidden from him as punishment for burning a hole in the sink, and letting him get at the drugs. Although it didn't look like anything had been used, he still knew something had to have been up.

As the water reached its maximum hight for Sherlock to get in it, he turned the tap off and stripped down to nothing... Accept for the dog tags. As he lowered himself into the hot bath every nerve in his body reacted in a relaxing way, accept for around his neck. As soon as the cold metal had something warmer to contrast to, they became extremely cold, almost as if trying to keep him from relaxing.

He fingered at the metal with inquisitive hands and the tighter he pulled on them the more he began to be... Aroused? Was Sherlock Holmes aroused? Well evidently by the stiffening muscle growing beneath the warm water. As Sherlock began letting his hands roam his body he had no control over the connection to his mind palace.

This time the lights were dim and decrepit, illuminating the room in a way he could tell what it was. It was an army interrogation room. Except this time he wasn't strung up, he was just standing there with one military bod in the corner.

As the man slowly began closing the mental gap between them, he saw the face illuminate under the weak light. Captain John Watson.

Even just the thought of him sent shivers through him, conscious and unconscious. "Mike was right, proper kinky bastard you are." John said in a slow and deep almost mocking tone. "I wonder what we're going to have to do about that..." John pondered aloud, only this time showing what he had in his hands.

John let his hands drop to his sides to reveal that in his right hand rested a black leather riding crop. Sherlock swallowed hard, forgetting how to breath for a few instances before composing himself. "I-I-" Sherlock was cut off by John's face pressed closely to his in an almost instant.

"I don't want to hear anything from you. Get or your hands and knees" Sherlock gulped hard and did just as he said, feeling the riding crop brush against his outstretched arse.

"Off." John said, smacking the riding crop against his right cheek lightly, causing Sherlock to moan and bite his lip in what felt like a torturous anticipation. Sherlock began slowly undoing his trousers and pulling them down enough with his pants that his entire arse was bare.

"You've taken my tags, Sherlock, that deserves... Ten-" Sherlock whimpered at the thought of the punishment, the word wasn't even mentioned but God was he anticipating it. "Count each of them Sherlock, or I'll start again. Don't move, or I'll start again. Understand?"

"Yes Captain Watson." Sherlock said through timid lips. He could feel John lining up and just before the impact-

*BANG BANG BANG* against the bathroom door. "Everything alright in there? I  
Heard my name." John stated through the door.

Sherlock looked down at himself in the bath to see his fingers red with pressure, intertwined in the dog tags. He had come alright, what looked like more than once and he soon pulled the plug, letting it drain behind him as he walked to the door. "Sherlock?" John asked through the door again, accompanied by another few knocks.

"Yes, John. I forgot my towel, could you fetch me one?" Sherlock asked through the door. John sighed and walked off to go and grab a towel. It wasn't a lie, Sherlock had forgotten a towel, but by god he was thankful that he had.

Sherlock took the tags off from around his neck, opening the laundry basket to dry them as best he could on his pj trousers, and stared at himself in the mirror until John came back.

His cheeks were flushed and he had a faint red ring around his neck, mostly at the back where he had pulled forward on the chain, but it was still there. He just hoped John didn't notice.

He heard another set of knocks on the door and opened it slightly before taking the towel, not bothering to close the gap when he wrapped himself in it knowing John would turn away.

This time however, John didn't. He had a full five seconds to examine every inch of sherlocks exposed body and by god it was gorgeous. Although John tried not to fixate on sherlocks semi-hard member, he couldn't help it.

Just as Sherlock looked up to meet his gaze John turned away, waiting for Sherlock to pass before watching him walk away. Just as John began trailing his eyes along sherlocks arse and back, he noticed the red mark on sherlocks neck, but thought nothing of it until Sherlock turned around and spoke.

"I left your tags on the sink by the mirror." Sherlock added before closing his bedroom door behind him.

"Thanks..."

**Author's Note:**

> Other chapter to come soon so don't forget to bookmark, and if you enjoyed my work, please feel free to leave kudos.XX Also, if you're also a spn fan i've got some other fics on my account. I take requests as well so leave them in the comments or message me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jaywinchester30-ao3


End file.
